Page 82 of Hot to Go

I BET THEY’RE NOT!

LUCY!

You were the one talking about his chorizo!

I send a line of laughing emojis and a picture of a Sevillian sunrise, no other notes, and leave them be as I know that last time, they were less good at being discreet about my sexual escapades.

I then scroll through a few more photos. Random photos taken on the coach where we caught Mark asleep with his mouth wide open, stained-glass windows, giant olives the size of marbles, group pictures of kids throwing up peace signs, and a singular selfie of two people in Plaza de España, drenched in a golden glow. I stare at the picture, lingering over his arms draped around me. All that light. It’s all I can see. I close my eyes to think about what it all means, what itcouldmean, when suddenly a text pings out of my phone.

Paul.

We really need to talk x

Maybe it’s the shock of seeing the notification of that text against the backdrop of Charlie’s photo, maybe it’s the shock of hearing anything from him while I’m here, hundreds of miles away from each other, but I throw my phone up in the air in surprise to see him invade this space and then struggle to catch it with my slippery hands, watching as it falls to the terracotta tiles with the sharpest of sounds. Shit shit shit shit. I bend down to pick it up, swearing at my own clumsiness, shards of the screen on the phone. It’s dead. It won’t switch on. I squat there in shock. Wanker. Look what you’ve done now.

‘Oh dear, what happened here?’ a voice says from the door. Charlie stands there in denim shorts, a white linen shirt and trainers, sunglasses hung over his buttons and two coffees in his hand. He rushes over, putting the drinks down to help. ‘Careful, you’ve not got shoes on.’ He goes down to my level, an eye on the towel still wrapped around me and a thigh on show, waves of dark brown hair still damp and clinging to my face. He picks at little crumbs of glass, pulling a face to look down at my phone.

‘That’ll teach me to check my messages when I’ve just come out of the shower,’ I say, blushing but perhaps for all the wrong reasons.

‘It happens. I can ask around, see if we can get it into a phone shop to get it repaired?’ Charlie says.

We could but that text would still be there. It feels nice to just remain in this little bubble of ignorance. ‘Or it can wait. Might be better to have a digital detox, we leave tonight anyway.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asks, scanning my face, a hand over mine. I don’t think he can read the emotion. I don’t care for Paul anymore, but I still feel like I’ve just been revisited by a ghostand not in a nice way, like in a horror film where he’s just appeared at a window when I was least expecting it.

‘I just feel like a prize idiot,’ I say, slipping the phone into a pocket of my bag.

‘You’re not. Would a coffee make things better?’ he asks. ‘I also found a churros place. Look how long this is…’

I smile, my eyes widening as he pulls out an abnormally long doughnut from a paper bag. ‘Kids meet for breakfast in five, so hurry,’ he tells me, and holds it to my mouth. I take a bite, nodding that it is indeed very tasty before dropping my towel to get changed. He doesn’t flinch. He just watches my naked breasts as I stand there in my knickers, pulling my shorts and bra on and settling for that teal T-shirt, drying my hair with my towel.

‘Whatcha looking at, señor?’

‘Just… you.’

I smile as I turn to the mirror and haphazardly apply some make-up to my face. I see him through the glass as he takes a seat on the leather armchair and sips at his coffee, his legs crossed, a reassuring smile when our eyes meet. It makes me a tad giggly but I’ll admit to also feeling a little pang as Paul sits there in my thoughts. Paul who never bought coffee. Paul who probably never looked at me like that and I just never realised. I shouldn’t compare. Do I tell Charlie about him? He’s been amazingly honest and forthright with me about everything in his life, but this feels like it would spoil a moment. To bring Paul up now just after sleeping together would feel a little distasteful. Perhaps it can wait, all these details can reveal themselves further down the line. I don’t want to overload him.

‘It is a shame though,’ Charlie says.

‘What’s a shame?’ I ask.

‘You’re going to have to reapply that lip balm in a bit.’

‘Why?’ I ask, turning to face him.

He approaches me, swooping in and makes it all better witha hand to my face and a long lingering kiss, a chance to melt in his arms, feel his body against mine and realise that this is more now than just a coincidence or a one-off, this could mean something.

‘Morning,’ he tells me.

‘Morning,’ I say, our foreheads touching.

‘Shall we do this?’

I don’t quite know what he means. Today or tomorrow or the next day? I’d consider it all if he wanted it too. However, there’s a sudden knocking on the door and the sound of Mark bellowing that it’s time for breakfast and we part, opening the door to find a sea of kids headed downstairs.

‘OI OI!’ Mark clamours, winking at Charlie, who looks mortified at the lack of subtlety around the children. ‘How are you two drunks this morning?’

‘Were you and Miss drinking?’ a voice pipes up from the crowd.

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